


ghosts in the attic

by kiteflower



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Character Death, i said my first free! fic would be dorky but, tbh i just wanted this out of my system
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3961744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiteflower/pseuds/kiteflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oceans and minds have unfathomable depths. </p><p>-----</p><p>In which Makoto and Haruka drown. (But not together.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	ghosts in the attic

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Yesterday's Monsters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/988022) by [Thesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesis/pseuds/Thesis). 



> pls read yesterday's monsters ur eyes will probably overproduce tears (or something along those lines)  
> title from Eric's Song by Vienna Teng  
> 

“Ah,” Makoto says, pulling out a thick album from the dusty box. The motion sends the dust particles into a frenzy, and Haruka sneezes in response. "Oops, sorry Haru!"

“Ah?” Haruka says as they settle down on the floor together, rubbing at his nose at the ticklish feeling of another impending sneeze.

Makoto opens the album, and Haruka makes to peer at it, practically falling into Makoto's lap. Makoto glances at him, amused and fond and Haruka straightens up, frowning in irritation and turning his face away to avoid his gaze.

“Haru,” Makoto says softly. Haruka can practically  _hear_ his smile. “Remember this?”

Makoto scoots up closer to him, so that their shoulders bump. Haruka huffs, but turns to look at the photograph nevertheless.

It’s a picture of a younger Makoto and Haruka, sitting together with Haruka’s granny in the living room. Paper stars litter the wooden floor around them, like they are the center of a paper galaxy.

“Ah,” Haruka says in pleasant surprise. Makoto breathes out a little laugh. 

He looks up at Makoto. The sunlight through the small square window make the dust particles around Makoto look lovely as they dance about the attic of the Nanase residence, free and without a care in the world. Makoto, too, looks like someone from another world, and surrounded by old boxes and relics from the past, Haruka feels like they are at the centre of a galaxy where time has stopped just for them.

Makoto is staring back at him, and Haruka’s heart skips a beat as he leans in slowly, before he catches his mistake and tears himself away, because _time does not stop_  — not for them, not for anyone.

 

* * *

 

There are few Jaeger pilots left. Everyone seems on edge as Rin and Haruka's helmets are secured, even though it's only a simulation.

The desperation of the Jaeger Program is almost palpable; after all, they had sought out Haruka, of all people, and although his neural scarring isn't extensive, it still isn't ideal for him to pilot.  

“You ready, Haru?” Rin asks in a manner that is very unlike him. Too subdued, Haruka thinks. Then again, changing times calls for some adjustments.

“Neural handshake initiating,” Haruka hears the robotic voice say before he has the chance to answer, and suddenly he feels cold all over.

He nods, anyway.

 

* * *

He is not spared from the memories that haunts him most, the fragmented quality of it lending to the frantic chaos of that night. Maybe it was the panic. (Maybe it was the interface messing with his memory retention, having been too much for him.)

And even though he shouldn't, there's a part of him that hangs onto every detail of it. 

It all comes back: the fishermen and their boat, swaying in the wild waves. The kaiju suddenly rising from the ocean, the force of its blow against the Jaeger. The adrenaline in his system, the heavy suit and helmet.

But most of all, he remembers Makoto – an unfinished train of thought, interrupted by the marshall’s warning. His concentration as they moved to activate the plasma cannon together. Panic, more panic. Makoto’s thoughts in his own mind even as he is torn away from the jaeger, away from Haruka. Fear. Sinking into the black depths of the ocean. An old nightmare resurfacing. The linings of his lungs burned by seawater. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(And then the silence.)

 

 

 

 

Haruka is certain that he’d died with Makoto that night.

 

* * *

  _  
_

Makoto’s dimpled cheeks are awash with the light of the sunrise, gaze wistful as he stares out across the sea. It's almost like they're back home in Iwatobi. Except they're not.

“You’re still scared of the ocean,” Haruka says. It’s not a question, it’s just a statement - they both know that it’s nothing more. One way or another, Haruka knows that fear,  _feels_ it: the slow way that it edges its way along the walls of his veins, rendering good sense inert, feeling like his heart might just stop if this fear reaches it. 

Makoto laughs, soft and ironic. “Isn’t everyone, nowadays?”

Haruka scowls, neatly tearing the wildflower he had been playing with into symmetrical halves and lets it fall from his fingers to meet the crashing waves at the foot of the cliff. 

They let a few moments pass in silence. 

“...I know,” Makoto admits, eyes following the flower. Haruka sees it too, bright against the frothy crests before the inky waters swallow the two halves whole. For a moment, it is as if they are sequestered from the rest of the world, one that is ending, though Haruka knows better. In spite of everything, the smile Makoto gives him convinces him that everything will be just fine. “But you’re here, Haru.”

 

* * *

 

"He piloted solo for, what, thirty minutes before collapsing? Better thirty than forty, obviously, but the effects of handling the neural load is detrimental."

Haruka opens his eyes and is met with the sight of a ceiling. It's white. Odd. 

"There's a risk of neural scarring, but." A pause. "It's good that he's alive at all." 

 

 

Oh.

He's not in the jaeger anymore.

(Though for a delirious moment, he wishes he is.)

He closes his eyes. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Haru-chan,” Nagisa says, voice soft on the ‘-chan’, and Haruka inwardly flinches. “Do you wanna talk about it? You’d probably feel better if you talked about it.”

He does. He wants to talk about it - but he can’t.

 

* * *

 

“It’s like there’s a void, you feel _empty_ , I get that. Everyone goes through it some point in their life. I mean, I’ve been there before, and when Mako — when you — I _felt_ it. But Haru — you can’t just stop living.”

“I’m alive,” Haruka says, a bit miffed.

“You know I don’t mean it literally! God, I don’t know how Makoto could _deal_ with you, day in and day out.”

Haruka stiffens. He swallows, though it does nothing to the unease trapped in his throat.

“I,” Haruka is vaguely aware of his voice breaking, but only because Rin winces. “I’m trying.”

Rin can’t possibly understand, because Haruka himself doesn’t either. There’s nothing the drift can do to convey something that isn’t there in the first place.

 

* * *

  _  
_

Shadows and squares of lights sweep across Makoto’s features as the train begins to move, and Haruka watches his lips part as he turns a page in the novel that he is reading.  

The train car is very nearly silent, and the floor of it is soaked with sunset. Someone clears their throat quietly, and a page crinkles under Makoto's fingertips.

Haruka leans back to stare at the ceiling of the car.

The train slows to a stop at the next station, and Haruka listens to the doors slide open and closed, listens to Makoto turn yet another page. The train starts to move again. 

“Haru?” he then says, chuckling as he closes his book, and Haruka can see himself through Makoto eyes, drenched by the sunset and a lethargic haze. "Don't fall asleep, now. It's almost our stop." 

“Why does it matter,” Haruka says, even though he shouldn’t, and he thinks that it's because he could feel Makoto’s adoring smile, an all-encompassing warmth, that he pretends - for just a moment.

 

(But pretending is not enough.)

 

* * *

  _  
_

Haruka feels Makoto’s relief, and a swell of affection. He's not sure whose it is. They smile at each other, and Haruka almost feels silly for smiling so wide.

Thoughts come and go, fused with emotions, but this one he catches with the most clarity, heavy with so much aching warmth:  _Haru, I_  —

“— getting a signature from the kaiju,” the marshall barks, and the two of them snap to attention. “It’s alive.”

 

* * *

 

“Damn it, Haru,” Rin says. Haruka almost flinches, but his tone isn’t harsh - a little exasperated, and surely Haruka is the cause, but more so _sad_.

“I…” Haruka starts, but stops himself from anything more. He shouldn’t have to explain himself to Rin. Rin’s gaze is forlorn, a little glassy - Haruka shouldn’t be surprised, because Rin always had been a bit more emotional - but he also sees that Rin is also determined.

“We miss him too, you know,” Rin tells him. Haruka wants to sigh, say _I know_ , because he does, because it is unfair in every single way - but instead he thinks of the swell of affection that almost _hurts_ as Rin continues, “I miss him too, you gotta know that. I miss _Makoto_.”

 

* * *

 

“Makoto,” Haruka says. It’s the first time that they drift on an actual mission and this age-old helplessness hasn’t changed one bit -  _I don’t want to lose you_  - and even though it is much too late, he says, anyway: “you don’t have to.”

Makoto’s smile only serves to unsettle Haruka, augmented by the fact that he can tell exactly what Makoto is thinking -

_I don’t want to lose you either._

 

* * *

 

Haruka wonders where he is supposed to go, when this is all over.

 

* * *

 

Haruka’s first impression of the Tokyo Shatterdome is that it isn’t impressive in the way that skyscrapers or houses nestled on the sides of mountains are. It's fairly industrial, and the artificial light that make up for the lack of windows are excessively stark.

But it certainly is efficient, like all things in war should be. It’s alright, he decides, even if home is more preferable. Makoto is here, at the very least.

 

* * *

 

Toddler Gou.

"Onii-chan!" 

A swimming pool.

Stormy skies. 

A funeral procession by the sea, for the ones that the sea took away. Clasping Gou's tiny hands. 

Rin's breathing slows, just slightly.

They pass by where Makoto and Haruka once stood, holding hands. When Haruka looks, there's no one there.

But that's only to be expected.  

 

* * *

 

These days, all Haruka can hear is talk of funding, Shatterdomes being shut down, an useless wall, relocation to Hong Kong.

He still hears hope in their voices, though, so he supposes that it'll be fine.  

 

* * *

 

Haruka remembers a particular conversation he had once with Rei about ghost-drifting.

Rei likes to share his findings, relevant or not, with the rest of them. Once in a while he’d abandoned his lunch in favour of working out hypotheses for side projects of his, and because everyone else seemed busy with one thing or another, Makoto and Haruka were usually the ones to bring him food.

One occasion stands out from the rest, because Makoto had been called down to speak with the marshall and Haruka went alone. As usual, Rei thanked him, but did not seem to actually notice the lunch that Haruka set down on the table beside an empty mug of coffee.

“You might think it a mere rumour, but I assure you, Haruka-senpai, that it is wholly real!” Rei cackled. Haruka hadn’t known how to respond, so he settled for a nod.

“The phenomenon of ghost-drifting,” Rei said as he pushes up his glasses, probably feeling encouraged, “is an interesting one. The neural bridge, as you know, is established with the calibration of the two hemispheres. Once activated, the relay gel in your helmets acts as a corpus callosum of sorts between you and Makoto-senpai, but when that’s gone, there is no physical link to propagate electrical impulses between the two of you. If you were to ghost-drift, then, there must be something else linking your minds, and because of the personality changes associated with ghost-drifting, I hypothesize that it may have something to do with…”

There were things that flew right over his head, but Haruka remembers enough for it to matter.

He thinks of their entwined minds as Makoto drowns. He thinks of the Haruka that drowned with him.

 

He wonders if he is still that same Haruka.

 

* * *

 

“Inner time,” Makoto says contemplatively. Haruka raises an eyebrow. Makoto laughs and scratches his cheek. “Oh, I was just talking to Rei about the drift. I was wondering why they hadn’t terminated the drift earlier on. There were a lot of memories that passed us by even after I chased the R.A.B.I.T., don’t you think so?”

Haruka nods. Makoto hadn’t meant to latch onto that incident during a particular training camp, it's not his fault, because Haruka almost did, too. 

“He said that time works differently in the drift. Because time runs differently in the mind. It makes sense, I guess.”

Haruka startles. That's right, he thinks. _That's why._  

 

* * *

 

A sleepover.

A foggy morning.

Pulling back the curtains.

Condensed drops of water on the windows.

Makoto nestling his face deeper into the blanket.

“Wake up Makoto,” Haruka says.

In the distance, a seagull’s call.

A half-asleep mumble of something that Haruka can't seem to remember.

A squeak from Makoto when he rips the sheets away.

The scene changes, and another image, one from a different place in time, washes over Haruka, tinged blue and white, like foamy waves in the ocean.

 

* * *

 

Haruka visits a rundown art store on the corner of a small street within hours of arriving in Hong Kong, because one day, when the apocalypse is over and the need for _drifts_ and _jaegers_ become things of the past, there are some things that he doesn’t want being forgotten.

It’s cluttered inside, but the materials are easy to find. While browsing through the brushes, Haruka stops to appreciate the sunlight filtering through the dirtied front window.

He hadn’t seen dust in their silent, solemn waltz in some time, with the Shatterdome being windowless and all.

He thinks that it looks lovely.

 

* * *

 

Chasing Sousuke down the piers, rock-paper-scissors and the summer sun.

Racing down the hallway of Sano Elementary School. 

Scraped knees.

A medley relay.

A defeated Sousuke handing Rin the promised popsicle.  

For some reason, Haruka tastes the ones he and Makoto used to share.

The scenery shifts around the two of them.

Nagisa, Rei, and Gou are walking in front of them.  

Haruka's glance flickers to Makoto's uneasy face, but he doesn't allow himself any more than that. 

 

* * *

 

(Sometimes when Haruka closes his eyes, he feels Makoto's faint presence - somewhere deep within him, a part of him, always here.)

 

* * *

 

It’s a dream of Haruka’s, one of the more vivid ones, the details of which he could still vaguely remember. Apparently, he remembers it better than he thought.

The texture of the sand is strikingly realistic, as is the shallow ebbing and rippling of water around his ankles. He can breathe the water in, salty brine and the smell of home.

A hand is curled around his, and that — that’s home as well.

Haruka feels a finger sleepily tracing words on the palm of his hand, the same two words with the same hesitance each and every time, starting over after a small pause, as if Makoto has deemed it inadequate and must get it perfect. A small warmth unfolds from deep within him, and it _hurts_   - because all of this feels so simple, two boys together by the seaside, so  _ordinary -_ but Haruka holds onto this feeling like a lifeline.

“Haru,” he hears, but it’s not Makoto he hears, and _not-Makoto_ ’s voice rings in his ears loudly.

“Failure to properly engage in neural bridge. Shut down the drift.”

Fear shoots through Haruka as he is jolted back into reality, Rin at his side in a similar state, and he tries not to gasp for breath.

When he calms down his breathing again, he only hears the sea of his memories somewhere beyond the drilling of metal and buzzing of electricity and sounds of the Shatterdome, waves quietly lapping against the shores, and nothing else.

 

* * *

 

Haruka wills to bury this headache that won’t go away. In theory, and _ideally_ , it would already be in a dark corner of the attic, collecting dust -- but in practice, it’s never quite that easy.

 

* * *

 

Rin cries first, and Haruka awkwardly touches his quivering shoulder.

There’s something about having someone else reliving the memories of looking at the world through Makoto’s eyes with him. 

"Let's try again," Rin tells him, resolutely wiping his face. 

It’s been over a year since that night, and Haruka nods, wonders if it will ever stop hurting. But in a way, he feels a little less alone.

 

* * *

 

A summer training camp. 

A boat ride. 

Swimming in the ocean. 

Stormy skies. 

Makoto and Rei, tossed by the waves. 

Makoto on the beach, unconscious, Makoto, _Makoto_  —

Haruka takes a deep breath, pushes his thoughts away, and continues on. 

 

* * *

 

 

Grilled squid, fried squid. Squid on rice, squid on a stick, squid on bread. Nagisa eats all of it. 

The presence of Rei lacking, because he's busy spying on Rin.

Standing in front of Iwatobi Elementary School.

A cherry blossom tree. 

Haruka watches with dismay as Rin clutches the fence. 

Then.

Stars, like specks in the night sky. 

Goldfish, and shining green eyes. 

 

* * *

 

After the incident, Rei doesn’t talk about interhemispheric communication or anything of the sort in Haruka’s presence. He wonders which is worse, normality or — whatever this is.

Haruka wonders if he’ll ever find the reason for why Rei looks at him like that, like he is sorry. He speculates on what he might have been sorry for: maybe for Makoto’s loss, maybe for Haruka having been Makoto’s drift partner. Maybe for Haruka having loved Makoto all that time, and still loving him now.

It’s a bit annoying.

Because at the end of the day, even if it’s _the end of the world_ , the world keeps turning.

 

* * *

 

Amakata smiles at the both of them, but it just looks off when it doesn’t reach her eyes. “The drift was a failure. You two are compatible, but both of you chased the —”

“Yeah,” Haruka says, because he knows and feeling an impending sigh latching onto the walls of his throat, feeling as if it had always been there.

He feels Rin’s eyes on his face, and remotely he thinks that it’s his fault for sinking into the depths of his memories first, prompting Rin to do the same. He remembers it from his first ever drift with Makoto. A fraction of a second where he let himself pretend —

The constricting of his throat feels eternal, and he didn’t know that sighing made it all the worse.

“I know. That won’t happen again.”

 

* * *

 

Unfamiliar shores. 

A dream.

A plane ride.

"Welcome home," Makoto says.

Haruka's heart soars. 

A relay at Nationals. Dreams, dreams, dreams. 

Latching onto Makoto's hand, and not letting go.

 

* * *

 

All of the Hong Kong Shatterdome collectively holds their breath and watches as the only other remaining Jaeger descends into the Breach. Rei must be wringing his hands, and Nagisa must be reassuring him. It will work. It can’t not work.

He's so deep in the ocean with Rin in their Jaeger that he wonders (it might be Rin who wonders, or maybe the both of them) if they'll ever see the sky again. And it's here that Haruka feels Makoto’s presence, clear as day.  

Maybe it’s because they’d just lost another jaeger, another two lives, that those unsaid words resonate in Haruka’s mind, and Rin gaze slides over to him, for a fleeting moment.

Haruka knows what those words are, because he has the same words left unsaid.

He wonders if Makoto knew.

Rin speaks up. "He did."

It’s so quiet - or maybe Haruka just can't hear any of it. Mission Control. The remaining pair of pilots. Headspace.

Somehow, Haruka hears waves against familiar shorelines, even though they are underwater.

“He did,” Haruka repeats after him, and suddenly feels at ease.

_He did._

 

* * *

 

( _You were in each others’ heads even without the drift, remember?_ )

 

* * *

 

The train car is very nearly silent, and the floor of it is soaked with sunset.

A cleared throat, the quiet crinkle of paper. 

Haruka leans back to stare at the ceiling of the car.

The train slows to a stop. 

The train moves again. 

“Haru? Don't fall asleep, now. It's almost our stop." 

"I'm tired."

 _I know,_  Makoto's smile says, as lovely as ever at the centre of this galaxy where time has stopped just for him. _  
_

The scene changes. 

 

* * *

 

One uneventful evening finds Haruka on the streets of Tokyo, no one paying him mind as they mill around, going about their own business. Amongst the crowd and neon signs and passing cars and life around him, he feels a bit like a ghost, wandering aimlessly.

At some point, he ends up sitting at a ramen shop counter by himself, hair still damp and smelling like chlorine. The food is good. Makoto probably would have liked it.

He watches through the glass window as the sky darkens and Tokyo’s nightlife begins to stir.

No more kaiju. No more fearing the ocean. The world has moved on.

And Haruka should, too.

 

* * *

 

They stop the war clock, and they cheer, like it’s everything that they’d kept hidden spilling loose from a split seam, a sigh long overdue.

Haruka watches, can’t help but think of the marshall’s last words, _you can always find me in the drift._

Haruka looks at his hands, noticing that they are shaking. He thinks that between him and Makoto, drifts or not, he can't possibly forget; not when Makoto is forever there, time standing still, in the attic of his memory. 

(He wills his hands to stop trembling.)

  

 

(Eventually, they do.)

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> something went wrong (everything) i made stuff up too that weren't in pacific rim idk if it works but i'll just roll away because i'm supposed to be doing world lit paper stuff LAUGHS cries  
> (basically i'm sorry about butchering things so constructive criticism would be very much appreciated sobs)
> 
> (whispers) thanks for reading


End file.
